It’s what I call the quintessential hymn of the Reformation, even though it was written some 24 years after Luther posted 95 Theses on the Wittenberg church door. It speaks volumes about what the Reformation was all about: The Word of God, God shielding His people from forces opposed to the Gospel, being kept in faith until death, and salvation by grace through faith alone. Today’s translation leaves out some more politically incorrect verbiage, but that does not make Luther’s original any less true, even today. Sadly, many Lutherans push this one aside for an earlier Luther hymn, which is pulled out in all of it’s glory on this day and sung with militant, Lutheran gusto.

On the outset, today’s text appears to be a text for pastors. Or, it might seem as if Jesus is talking to pastors, or men that He is sending out as pastors. The list of things he tells them are words worthy of a pastor to keep in mind as he ministers to God’s people.

• These men are being sent out as lambs among wolves. Jesus says and does some neat things, but He also has a way of rubbing people the wrong way. It’s not that He’s being mean or mischievous—He’s the Truth, and what He says and does is the truth, and fallen man cannot handle the truth, at least not always. These men are being sent out to proclaim the Word of God, and they can expect to be treated like lambs by wolves. This is a reality for pastors today, too.
• These men are to bring no provisions with them; instead, they are to expect to be provided for by a “son of peace,” for “the laborer is worthy of his wages.” Where the truth is proclaimed and received by a “son of peace,” the reaction by that son is the support of the proclamation. This is, essentially, the opposite of being treated like a lamb among wolves—this is being treated like the emissary of righteousness, life, and salvation. So, these men will be taken care of by those who receive the Word of God. Likewise, this is the case for pastors, today, too, insofar as the sons of peace today are able in some places.
• These men are told to heal the sick and say, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” This is the task for which they are sent. It’s all that they are to do, and it’s simple. The healings will all be by the power of Jesus; the word proclaimed will be nothing more or less than Jesus. For it, they will either be hated to the point of death, or loved to the point of being cared for, esteemed, and revered. Jesus doesn’t ask much of them, though it is a difficult, yet simple, task. The reward, on the other hand, is life for them and for all who would receive them. Once again, pastors today are to do the same thing, administering the medicine of immortality in the Lord’s Supper and proclaiming the great day of the Lord in the words of Holy Absolution.

“Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea! For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has a short time.”

The good ol’ days, that’s what people call them. Days past which were, in myriad ways, better than today. People were friendlier, the moral compass of society wasn’t as far off as it is now, and things generally went better. Compared to the good ol’ days, today is anything but good. Now, you read and hear of wars and turmoil, the political climate of the country is ever more divisive, and it’s harder today to get by than it was mere decades ago. “Those were the good ol’ days; things are getting worse.”

Yet, “there is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9c) Today is no worse off than yesterday. The moral compass of society spins just as it spun decades and centuries ago. People get along, or they don’t; they agree, or they don’t. Getting by is hard at times and easier at other times, just as it always has been.

Worrying is a part of life, or so it seems. People worry about paychecks and taxes. People worry about security and freedom. Some people even worry about the food they need for their next meal, whether they’ll be warm that night to sleep, or even if they’ll have a roof over their head and a bed to sleep in that night.

Then Jesus comes along and says, “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?” I suppose you could add shelter, security, and freedom to that list, too. When it comes to the necessities of life, you need not worry.

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

The birds are fed by the providence of God. Even the lilies of the field are decked out in raiment more glorious than anything that Solomon ever wore. These need not worry—these creatures of the third and fifth days—and you, more valuable than they, a creature of the ultimate day of creation, need not worry either about food or clothing. God gives these “lesser life forms” what they need; He will certainly give you everything that you need.

What if the parable of the Samaritan and the traveler isn’t all we make it out to be?

It’s a simple story, really. It tells a moral tale. A certain man was traveling to Jericho. Along the road, some thieves stripped him of his clothing, beat him senseless, and left him for dead, naked, alone, and broke. Two of Jerusalem’s religious elite pass by him. Neither of them helped him, but did their best to avoid the man by walking around him on the other side of the road. It wasn’t until a Samaritan came along—a half-breed lowlife, according to the Jews—that the man finally received some help.

This certain Samaritan bandaged the man’s wounds, salving him with wine and oil. Then, placing him on his own animal, he takes the man to an inn, pays for his room and board, and sees to it that the innkeeper takes care of him, promising to repay him any extra expenses upon his return. It was certainly a good thing that the Samaritan had done, but you’ll notice that nowhere in the parable does Jesus call him good, as has become part of our parlance—the Good Samaritan.

Rachel weeps...

Matters of convenience have long trumped life. Throughout the history of the world, whenever it suited the desires and perceived needs of a person, he or she has had no problem taking a life. And the people around them? Well, they have often been complacent or incapable of doing anything different.

As was usually the case, you might imagine that the Pharisees left Jesus dejected after He had told them the parable that is today’s text, if not angry and ready to stone Him. It’s a simple parable, yet if they did walk away dejected, one that they got so wrong. Nevertheless, be it simple, it’s one that you can easily get wrong, too.

The prophet Jeremiah was called at a young age to warn the people of Judah of danger coming from the north and east. God’s wrath would come upon His people via the Babylonians. As Jeremiah warned them, however, he told them that a remnant would remain. Consequently, the message to the people of Judah was to repent. Repent, and they would be counted among the remnant—they would be the remnant.

You all know the proof texts. We are saved by grace, not by works. (cf. Acts 15:11; Ephesians 2:5, 8; 2 Timothy 1:9) You all know what Lutherans confess according to the Third Article of the Creed. “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him...” Through no merits of your own are you saved. Your salvation is wholly and completely dependent upon Jesus Christ and the work He has done.

From the cross, you have heard the completion of that work. As the last words of Jesus from the cross are numbered to 7, His penultimate word was τέτελεσται—it is finished! (cf. John 19:30) With that, He commended His spirit to the Father and breathed His last. The work of your salvation was accomplished, completed, finished. And if Jesus has completed the work, then there is nothing left for you to do. It is finished, and salvation is yours by completely and wholly by the grace of God.

It is for that reason that many Lutherans today balk at all talk of works. The Ten Commandments become little more than a list for confirmands to memorize. Outside of catechesis and confirmation, though, there is no practical use for the Ten Commandments for many Lutherans.

Though not all is said and done, on July 15, Rev. Dr. Matthew Becker will be removed from the roster of the LCMS. It's a shame it had to happen, but the man teaches falsely, contrary to sound Biblical doctrine, and refuses to repent of it. You can see his response here.

Frankly, this is the right thing to do, and should have been done some time ago. Truthfully, it hurts. Would that these things could be discussed and handled cordially, and the error be brought back to orthodoxy peacefully and gently, but it was not the case this time.

He needs prayers. Where he ends up needs prayers. And what he is leaving needs prayers.